FYM - 56

On the first day of the second month, under clear skies, Song Shuyan and her companions arrived safely in Qiantang.

It was the Zhonghe Festival, a day when the palace traditionally bestowed robes and measuring tools and hosted grand feasts. Among the common folk, the first day of the second month was celebrated as the Sun God’s birthday. Rituals were held to honor deities, and seeds were exchanged, filling the air with joy and harmony. Lady Jiang, who had never visited Qiantang before, eagerly pushed open the carriage window to take in the sights. Song Shuyan softly explained the local customs and scenery beside her, both thoroughly enjoying the moment.

Their laughter drifted out the window, inevitably reaching the two men on horseback outside. Song Mingzhen chuckled, turning to Fang Xianting. “My fourth sister has always called Qiantang home. She seems so delighted today, acting like our hostess, speaking more than usual.”

Fang Xianting had also overheard her lively conversation with his mother. She indeed sounded lighter and happier than usual. A faint smile graced his eyes as he viewed bustling Qiantang as an idyllic retreat, where worldly concerns momentarily faded, granting a rare tranquility.

“She is indeed our host,” he replied with a subtle smile. “For these few days, let’s follow her lead.”

Unfortunately, the Fang family couldn’t stay at the Qiao residence with Song Shuyan.

Firstly, the arrangements had been rushed, and she hadn’t yet informed her family of their arrival. Secondly, the household was busy preparing for her cousin Qiao Zhen’s wedding, making it inconvenient to host distinguished guests. Thus, Lady Jiang decided to rent a separate residence temporarily, which Fang Xianting had already arranged.

“You needn’t worry about us,” Lady Jiang reassured her kindly. “Go reunite with your family first. We’ll be fine with your brother’s company.”

True enough.

Though Song Mingzhen could have stayed at the Qiao residence alongside Song Shuyan, he preferred to remain with his third brother. This arrangement allowed him to assist as a gracious host instead.

“I’ll head back first…”

Song Shuyan felt slightly apologetic but was mostly reluctant to part ways. Occasionally glancing at Fang Xianting, their eyes met, stirring emotions within them.

“…I’ll just report to the elders quickly. I won’t be long.”

This was perhaps the most restless homecoming Song Shuyan had experienced in years.

Despite trying to suppress her excitement, her steps towards the main hall were noticeably hastier than usual. Zhui’er and Cui Mama nearly struggled to keep up, exchanging knowing smiles as they followed behind.

In Liangjing Hall, she greeted her grandmother, whom she hadn’t seen in half a year. The old lady beamed with joy, holding her hand and repeatedly asking about the marriage proposal from Xuanchou’s Wang family.

“Grandmother needn’t worry; everything’s settled,” Zhui’er chirped brightly, her words flowing effortlessly. “That scoundrel ended up marrying a courtesan and suffered greatly. Our young miss, graceful and wise, deserves a noble suitor with genuine intentions—not someone like him.”

Zhui’er’s spirited demeanor hinted that her mistress had thrived during her time in Jinling. The sharp-eyed grandmother, noting Song Shuyan’s unusually flushed cheeks, immediately sensed recent developments in Jinling. Just as she prepared to inquire further, her beloved granddaughter shyly interjected, “My second brother has also come to Qiantang. He’s waiting outside for me… Might I return later to speak with you?”

“Your second brother?” the old lady raised an eyebrow, surprised. “If he’s here, he should have come home with you. Why isn’t he here now?”

Song Shuyan stammered, unable to explain clearly. The astute grandmother guessed much but chose not to press her darling granddaughter, dismissing her with a wave. Song Shuyan then paid respects to her uncles and aunts, finally retreating to her room to freshen up. Unlike her cautious demeanor in the Song household, where even wearing an ornate hairpin was unthinkable, she now returned to Qiantang with abandon, bringing out all her beautiful clothes and accessories. With her maids, she carefully selected outfits, arranging her hair by the window and applying makeup before the mirror, taking nearly an hour to prepare.

Zhui’er’s chatter never ceased. She praised her mistress’s beauty while teasing her, whispering, “Young miss, hurry and go out. Lord Fang must be waiting impatiently—”

He…

Song Shuyan couldn’t help but smile, moved simply by hearing his name mentioned. Her mind flashed back to his gaze last night at the inn, warming her heart. She wasn’t sure what she anticipated or whether her wishes would be fulfilled.

But none of that seemed to matter anymore.

At this moment… she simply wanted to see him.

As she prepared to board the carriage, she spotted the man she longed to see. Without horse or attendants, he stood with her second brother at the far end of the street, watching her approach. His handsome features, accentuated by a small mole near his right eye, appeared especially warm. Contrary to poetic descriptions of frosty jade towers or snow-covered plum blossoms, he resembled willow trees by the riverbank, exuding a serene charm.

“What took so long? You’ve kept us waiting—”

Song Mingzhen stepped forward cheerfully, pleased to see his sister looking particularly radiant in a pale cherry-colored silk dress. He teased, “A young lady should dress brightly, not like those drab gray hues she wore in Chang’an… Though you do look stunning today. Perhaps you should tone it down a bit when your brother isn’t around…”

Half-compliment, half-jest, Song Shuyan didn’t know how to respond, feeling Fang Xianting’s gaze linger on her. Flustered, she deflected, asking, “…Where’s Lady Fang? I hope we haven’t kept the elders waiting too long.”

“Mother is resting at our lodgings,” Fang Xianting replied, his tone warmer than before, comforting to hear. “She won’t be going out today.”

Nodding, Song Shuyan avoided his eyes, aware of the undercurrents between them. Yet Song Mingzhen, oblivious to subtleties, failed to give them space, loudly announcing plans to visit Shihuan Lake, much to Zhui’er’s exasperation.

Qiantang, a water town, favored boats over carriages for sightseeing. The wealthy Qiao family owned several pleasure boats. After arranging with a servant, they soon embarked on a journey to Shihuan Lake.

Boarding the boat, Song Mingzhen led the way, extending a hand to assist his sister and her maid. Zhui’er followed nimbly. Though Song Shuyan didn’t need help, a passing barge caused the boat to sway. Losing balance, she stumbled sideways.

Song Mingzhen reached out but was beaten to it by Fang Xianting, who firmly grasped her hand, steadying her with ease. Feeling the warmth of his touch, she turned to find him already releasing her, murmuring softly behind her, “Be careful.”

His voice sent shivers through her. Zhui’er smirked, thinking her master might finally notice something amiss. Sure enough, Song Mingzhen frowned, emitting a curious “Hmm.”

Snapped back to reality, Song Shuyan hurried onto the boat, lowering her gaze. Though close to her brother, she hesitated to reveal anything prematurely, her heart tightening at the thought of potential questioning.

“I was watching so closely, yet still slower than Third Brother…” Song Mingzhen lamented, blaming his lack of martial prowess. “…It seems I’ve grown lax these years. I must practice more diligently.”

Zhui’er nearly rolled her eyes at her master’s obliviousness. Meanwhile, Song Shuyan and Fang Xianting both sighed in relief. Aware of his intentions towards her sister, Fang resolved to tread carefully to preserve their fraternal bond, maintaining decorum while occasionally stealing glances at Song Shuyan—his actions driven by uncontrollable affection.

Upon reaching Shihuan Lake, accompanied by Song Mingzhen, conversation flowed easily. Disembarking, they admired the tranquil lake shimmering under the bright sun, its clarity breathtaking. Crossing a stone bridge, they encountered bustling streets celebrating the Zhonghe Festival. Crowds thronged, vendors shouting their wares, vividly illustrating the oft-described prosperity of Qiantang.

“We’re fortunate to arrive during the festival,” Song Mingzhen remarked, browsing the lively streets. “This place seems livelier than Jinling. The picturesque Jiangnan landscape surely surpasses Chang’an.”

Song Shuyan, naturally fond of this place, found even ordinary households charming. Pleased by her brother’s praise, she added, “This isn’t Qiantang’s peak season. On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, during the Mid-Autumn Festival, the tides swell, drawing visitors from all directions. Then you’ll witness painted bridges draped in curtains, markets brimming with pearls and silks—a scene far more splendid than today.”